Jeweled Song
by acollectionoffavoritequotes
Summary: Crossover with Black Jewels. Slash. This was not my idea. Be warned.


**This is all lotr fault. All her fault. Not mine...hers. I was talking on the phone with her once right before I went to hawaii, and I was tellign ehr about a dream I had that had Erik and Deamon. She told me I should write a story about them. So, on the plane ride, I was so bored I started one. I finished it and gave it to her, telling her the only way in hell I'd post it was if SHE typed it up cuz I was too lazy to. Two days later, here it is. She actully typed it. lotr, you freak. **

**deamon/erik pairing. **

**again, this is not my fault. I just wrote it. **

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Jeweled Song  
By Deathtoallclovers

Never have I felt the need to tell any story as I have this one. If I do not get it all down, and quickly, I fear I will not believe any of it in the days ahead. For it is so odd, I would believe it to be nothing more than my imagination comforting myself after… well, after her-who-shall-not-be-named. I guess it started not too long ago, yet it seems like forever.  
The day had been spent in an almost religious frenzy of music composing, but, alas, to no avail. After the failure of my last work- not just the play, mind, but in every aspect that allowed failure- I had decided to try something a little different. It was not working. I guess when I said it was over, I really meant it, for it no longer sings for me like it once did. Truly I am alone now.  
Except that the alarm bell was ringing, warning me of an intruder at the lake edge. After it first went off, I ignored it for several more minutes, until the implications set in. Cursing, I leapt from my seat at the organ and grabbing the Punjab- it had been gathering dust- rushed to the lake edge.  
Prowling the perimeter was an oddly dressed- not that I had any right to talk- man. Slowly, I came out of my run to stop and stare. He wore the oddest clothing. But that was not why I stared. I stared because he was the most beautiful person I ever saw, even among women. If no woman was ever this lovely, how could a man be?  
Suddenly he glanced up, noticing me on my side of the lake. First thought that struck me when he pinned me with his eyes was how cold they were. His eyes could freeze a fire and they radiated cold fury beyond anything even I had ever seen. The second was a much less dignified thought along the lines of: he's looking at me! If I were so disposed, I would swoon! Hell, I nearly was swooning! Then, just as suddenly, he was right in front of me. Had I really been that lost in contemplation of him that I'd not noticed his movement! Me!  
Of course him nearly breathing on me was doing nothing to drive the swoony feeling away. Meanwhile, the Punjab hung limply from one hand. Oh bloody hell man, pull it together! He's just another person!  
"Where am I," he grated out, voice cold, but if he weren't so angry it would have sounded wonderful. He'd make a great singer with trainin- no! Not ever doing that again, going through that pain.  
"Um…" was all I managed to get out at first. Of course, when he took another step closer I found the rest of my voice. "Paris, France. Europe," I gasped out quickly, feeling decidedly odd.  
The cold dropped down a bit. "That does nothing for me," he said brokenly. Just as suddenly as he'd appeared by me, he was gone. I spent a few moments blinking in surprise to finally find him prowling the edge of the lake. I couldn't hear what he was muttering, but it sounded like "why" and something about a failed experiment. Mutely, I watched him, deciding any movement on my part would only anger him farther, and he looked like the fury of hell itself as it was. Briefly, I wondered if he was somewhat unstable, first angry, then lost, then angry again. Just what I needed… a bipolar…  
Then, as suddenly as he seemed to do everything, he was inches away from me. "Who are you?" he demanded this time. I really was losing my touch if I was letting someone order me around. Of course, it was a very beautiful someone, but really…  
"Erik," I whispered.  
"That's it?" he raised an eyebrow. "Just Erik? No rank? No Jewel, no last name?"  
"No…" What did he mean by rank and Jewel anyway?  
"You're landen, aren't you?"  
"What?" I guess he wasn't from around here, what with all his strange words and all…  
"You're not of the Blood."  
"What blood? What on earth are you talking about?"  
For a second he looked surprised, but then amused. "Don't you know?"  
"No!" I wailed, almost angry with him, though it was an abrupt angry, not the seething hatred I felt for that damned fop.  
Before I knew it, he was sad again. Damn he was bipolar. "I'm really not there anymore than… Jaenelle, what did you do?"  
"Jane…lle?" I ventured, not really sure I wanted to hear that answer.  
The look I received was an odd one. "My… queen," he paused, as if not sure what to call her.  
"She's your lover isn't she?" This time when I asked, my voice was bland.  
Now his face was pained. Frankly, I was fascinated by his face, he was so expressionate, and every expression was beautiful… "If only."  
"What does that mean?"  
"I'm her consort, damnit. Why doesn't she let me near her?"  
I'd let you near me, I thought silently.  
"What?" he snapped, seeing me pause.  
"Nothing," I snapped back. OK, let me review this, there was a beautiful stranger here where there had been no one for a long time, his desired lover had jilted him, and dear god, he was beautiful, and I don't care if I sad that already. It was the truth.  
Hesitantly, I reached out a hand to touch his face, and only then realized that he was taller than me. Anyway, he looked shocked that anyone would touch him, so I guess that wherever he's from, people have learned to fear him, and not to touch him. Momentarily his eyes had that cold look of fury in them, yet, just soon as the cold came, it disappeared.  
"You shouldn't chase after those who don't want you!" I don't know why I said that, there was no reason to say it, so why did I?  
"She wants me, or at least she did, and I will not give up on her after so much!"  
Slowly, I bowed my head, hand slipping slightly. "Oh. Of course."  
"Idiot."  
Really, everything he did was sudden and surprising. Especially when he kissed me. One moment he'd been calling me an idiot, the next his hand was on my waist and his mouth over mine. How'd that happen?  
Vaguely, thoughts drifted through my mind, such as how much of a better kisser than Christine- I was saying her name again…- he was, so he must have had more practice. Also that no one besides Christine had ever kissed me and why hadn't he said anything about the mask… Even though his face kept touching it, why didn't he find it odd?  
Again, as my neck leaned back so my lips could touch his, I noticed how much taller he was… an odd thing to notice at that moment.  
The rest of my brain, and all of my nerves, were taken up with sensations. Like how warm his mouth was, how his hands were stroking up and down my hips, how his whole body was pressed against mine. I, who had been only kissed once, could not believe the feelings this contact was bringing on.  
Then he pulled away and stepped back. I promptly fell to my knees, confused as hell. "Wha-?" was all I managed before a hand ran down my chest. But! There was no one near me, how could there be a hand? Another one joined the first, and I found myself desperately wanting a real touch. Looking up- I was still on my knees- I found that bastard smirking at me. I must have looked weak and pathetic, kneeling, panting as hands I couldn't see were whispering over me.  
"You are sensitive, aren't you?" he continued to smirk.  
"I… bastard…"  
The smirk still firmly in place he came over again and crouched down in front of me, so close, yet not touching. "Where I come from, do you know what they call me?"  
"N-noo…" I moaned, the phantom- irony there- hands not stopping.  
Smirk changing into something else, his hand reached out to mirror my early movement. "The Sadist."  
Tilting my head back into the touch, I growled out, "Suiting."  
Quietly he knelt in, kissing me again, the phantom hands gone and replaced by real, warm, oh-so-fulfilling ones. I moaned into his mouth, clutching at him. This was insane…  
One of his hands was reaching for the mask and… I pulled away. "What?" he asked, frowning at the interruption.  
"Don't," I pleaded.  
"Don't what?"  
"The mask… don't touch the mask…"  
"Why not?"  
I pressed a hand against my mouth, realizing I was crying slightly as memories of every person, every jeer and every scream came flooding back. "I don't want you to see…"  
He was frowning again. "See what?"  
"See me…"  
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded yet again.  
"I… I…"  
Reaching forward, he flicked the mask off my face to land some feet away. "NO!" I yelled, trying to cover my face with my hands, but he grabbed those and held them down.  
Still crying, I turned my face away, but he turned it back, so I finally sat there, still, as he gazed upon me without expression. Sobbing, I awaited the rejection I always met without the mask to come, the horror, the disgust. It never came.  
Gently he rubbed a hand across my face, brushing away the tears. He kissed me again, tenderly. I didn't understand… didn't he not care? At all?  
Apparently not, for soon he had me pinned against the cool floor, shirt halfway off, lips never leaving.

At one point I know he dragged both of us onto the large swan bed Christine used. I finally used her name again- and I'm pretty sure that was before we… we… well, made love.  
Besides that, all I remember is blinding pleasure, and someone, probably me, yelling.  
I do remember waking to find him standing beside the bed where I lay. "You don't have a shower."  
"Shower?"  
"Some place to wash."  
Mutely I pointed to the lake. He didn't seem particularly fond of the idea of washing there, but he nodded and headed towards it. After that, he only stayed a week, until one day I awoke to find him nowhere in sight.  
I guess Jaenelle found a way to get him back. Or he left in search of her. But if he doesn't find her, he sure as hell better come back to me.  
Daemon Sadi.  
I finished the opera. And it did turn out the way I wanted, needed it to. I wonder if I can con the new management into performing it…  
You better come back, Daemon. You gave me back my life. I need to return the favor, in some way.

End.

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**erm...yeah...here ya all go ...if anyone was insane enough to read it. Review? Please? i will love you forever and ever.**


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